


Go Team!

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [36]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: B Squad fic, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s04e15 Self Control, Some Swearing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: B-squad prompt by @accio-the-force: Missing moment in the immediate aftermath of 4x15-- B squad discusses what the hell just happened and how they've suddenly become the most senior (conscious) agents?





	Go Team!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XOLove47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOLove47/gifts).



> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.

Piper looks back over her shoulder one last time at Johnson and Simmons lying on two medical beds in some sort of weird, fucked-up state of non-consciousness. She sighs when she catches a glimpse of Elena’s somber expression, before turning around and heading to the cockpit where Davis and Prince are waiting for her.

“They’re logged in or whatever you wanna call it,” Piper remarks, gesturing over her shoulder.

“Where’s Elena?” Davis asks, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the plane.

_Is it called a steering wheel? Damnit, Piper, you should know that! How do you not know that? Or how can you have forgotten?_

Piper shakes her head to refocus, hoping the others won’t notice how flustered she currently is. “Staying with Johnson and Simmons for a little bit. I’m guessing she could use some alone time to process all this.”

Prince scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We could all use that.”

“Yeah, but we’re a bit better trained for shit like this,” Piper replies, although her tone isn’t quite as convincing as she’d hoped it would be.

She turns to look at Davis. “So, where are we headed?”

Davis does a brief double-take, acknowledging that he’s heard her, but seemingly not wanting to lose focus on piloting the large plane.

“Well, you know,” he mutters quietly, removing one hand from the steering wheel and gesturing straight ahead towards the horizon.

Piper raises her eyebrows skeptically. “Tell me you know how to steer this thing and not just fly in a straight line.”

Davis turns around again, squinting in discontent. “You were right here when I navigated this bird out of an underground hangar while the base exploded below our asses!”

“Yeah, but you also said you just started training.”

Piper holds Davis’ disgruntled stare until Prince pointedly clears his throat to get their attention.

Piper exhales sharply, raising her hands in defeat. “Alright, fine, you can steer this thing. So where are we headed?”

Davis shrugs. “I have no fucking clue. So straight ahead it is for now. Keeping under the radar.”

“You kiss your wife with that mouth, Davis?”

Davis’ hand waves nonchalantly to the side, while he keeps his focus on the horizon. “You’re one to talk, Miss Curses-every-second-word.”

“That’s Agent Curses-every-second-word to you!” Piper teases back, her index finger darting in Davis’ direction for emphasis.

“Alright,” Prince interrupts their little banter. “Jokes aside. What now?”

Piper groans quietly, dropping her head back and then slowly stretching her neck side to side until she hears a relieving pop. “Let’s see. A crazy-ass Scottish scientist who’s possessed by some crazy-ass magical book, a crazy-ass Russian maniac, and a crazy-ass robot chick have the crème-de-la-crème of S.H.I.E.L.D. The last remaining highest-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. officers have just logged into some kind of real-life-version of the Sims. There are more robots, looking like some of our agents, in our headquarters, which just blew up—”

“Man, I just put fresh sheets on my bed,” Prince mumbles quietly under his breath, but unfortunately for him not quietly enough.

“Sheets?” Davis exclaims, apparently surprised enough that he trusts his hands to keep the plane steady while his eyes fixate on Prince. “The enemy just destroyed our base, we had to drag our colleagues’ unconscious bodies to the far-end of said base where they were hopefully safe from the explosion, our superiors are logged into some virtual world, and you’re upset because of _sheets_?”

“They were brand new! My mom sent them, okay?” Prince shrugs, his tone noticeably defensive.

“Fine.” Piper extends her hands in a soothing gesture. “So our highest-ranking agents are AWOL, our base is destroyed, Prince’s sheets are ruined—”

“My wife was pissed as fuck when I called her,” Davis interjects grumpily.

“You called your wife?” Piper can’t stop her voice from getting louder. “Secure channel, right?”

Davis draws in an angry breath. “You think I’m some kind of amateur? I’ve been with this agency longer than you, Piper!”

“Okay, sorry.” Piper raises her hands apologetically. “I think we’re all a bit on edge here.”

“True,” Davis admits.

For a little while the room falls silent, until Prince’s voice suddenly pipes up. “Guys, do you realize that we’re probably the highest ranking agents right now? I mean, conscious ones at least.”

“You’re right.” Piper nods before rubbing her palms together. “Okay, so I think what needs to happen next is—”

“Whoa,” Prince exclaims, holding out his hands palms-up in a questioning gesture. “Who put you in charge?”

Piper furrows her brows, staring at her colleague in disbelief. “Umm. My rank? May always calls on me. I’m like her second-in-command at Operations!”

“I was Level 4 before we switched to this color crap.” Prince points at himself, before his finger darts in Piper’s direction. “You were Level 3.”

Piper crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah, but they’ve switched to the color crap, so your previous level doesn’t really matter. Like I said, May—”

“And like I just said,” Davis chimes in, his tone stern and annoyed, “I’ve been with S.H.I.E.L.D. longer than both of you. If anything—”

“Yeah, but you’re Level Blue, Davis!” Prince remarks matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re Red.” Piper nods in agreement, gesturing between herself and Prince. “Operations. That’s higher than Blue.”

Davis removes one hand from the steering wheel, pointing in Piper and Prince’s direction while he tries to keep his eyes on the horizon. “The whole idea behind the color codes was to get rid of the ranking and level shit, so—”

“Alright. Guys! Let’s stop. All of us,” Piper finally exclaims, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “Arguing isn’t helping any of us.”

She gestures at the pilot seat. “Davis is right. As fucking idiotic as the color shit was, the principle of making people feel more equal isn’t the worst if you ask me.”

“So everyone gets a say?” Prince asks, his eyes wandering from Piper to Davis and back.

Piper bobs her head. “Exactly. Everyone gets a say. And everyone gets a task. We’re a team. We need to work together, don’t you think?”

Davis exhales sharply. “I’ll focus on keeping us in the air and keeping my eye on the radar.”

“I’ll check on our weapons and food supplies,” Prince adds, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“And I’ll check on Elena, Simmons, and Johnson, and keep an eye on all news channels,” Piper concludes. “Can’t imagine a gigantic explosion like that going unnoticed for long.”

Davis scoffs briefly, ticking his head to the side. “Well then. Let’s do this so Prince can get back to his brand-new sheets and I can get back to my wife before she kills me for missing our next ultrasound appointment.”

“Go Team!” Piper raises one fist, but can’t quite bring her voice to sound truly enthusiastic.

“Go Team!” Prince and Davis repeat equally halfheartedly.


End file.
